


A Long Winter

by unicorngirl



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicorngirl/pseuds/unicorngirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi comes home after a day of rehearsal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Couple quick things. I've seen the anime - but have not read the books/manga. So, if there are things I've mentioned that don't make a whole lot of sense when considering the books/manga- that is why. Just wanted to write something for fun. Enjoy.

Nezumi shook the snow out of his hair and pulled his coat tighter. The chill in the air seeped under his clothes and around him the snow fell heavily. If not for his scarf he would be freezing. Under his boots the pavement was icy and the sidewalks needed to be shoveled again.

It was late enough in the day that most people were already off the street, but a few restaurants he passed had lights on and people inside. They were well into the winter months and the season had been hard. 

He clutched the brown bag he held closer and walked into a familiar residential neighborhood. The buildings were worn but well cared for and there was a small café on the corner that Shion loved to visit. After several more turns he glanced up at the small complex they lived in. It was pale blue and nothing like any of the places either of them had lived in before.

Sometimes it made Nezumi miss their cramped underground home.

From where he stood he could see that the far window was open, again. Shaking the snow from his boots, he entered the warm building, taking a flight of stairs before entering the apartment. There was music on, something soft and bluesy. Shion had taken a liking to it the first time he’d heard it while shopping and insisted on finding more. While he had no skill with acting, Shion's taste in music was much better.

Hanging his coat, Nezumi dropped off the bag in the kitchen and strolled towards the light coming from the hallway. On the way he closed the window, cursing at how cold the apartment had become. Small snowflakes gathered on the windowsill and he brushed them off absently. Even after Nezumi had returned, Shion still left it open as if his roommate had no key. 

The odd habit was fine in the summer, but had been a challenge all winter. It was simply too cold to leave the window open all wily-nily. Nezumi wasn’t sure how Shion had managed the two winters before he’d returned. The man could be so absent minded he had been known to wear his shirts inside out. 

He found the white haired man in the study, with a fuzzy hat pulled low on his face and a book resting next to his frame. The sweater he wore was oversized and made him seem even smaller than he was. He half sprawled out on the worn futon, red eyes blinking sleepily.

“If you’re going to be cold, don’t leave the window open.” Nezumi stated, pushing Shion’s feet away as he sat next to him. The futon wasn’t the same as the furniture they’d shared before, but it was secondhand and Nezumi liked how well worn it was. It was his favorite piece of furniture in the apartment. “Don’t put on more layers, it’s idiotic.”

Shion sputtered, still more asleep than awake, and flopped his feet into Nezumi’s lap. Nezumi felt his eyebrow raise, but did nothing. Beneath his socks, Shion’s toes wiggled.

“Nezumi,” He started, rubbing at his eyes before stretching like a cat. Nezumi took the moment to admire the line of Shion’s neck and the way his back arched. “When did you get here? I thought you had practice?”

The dark haired man let his head fall back against the cushion and watched Shion struggle to wake. “It’s late. You’ve undoubtedly been sleeping. Rehearsal is over.”

“What?” Shion sat up, a look of distress crossing his still muddled features. “I was going to make dinner.”

From where he sat, Nezumi noticed just how flushed Shion was, the unnatural redness in his cheeks and the dull sheen of his eyes. When he’d left that morning, Shion had been slow to rise and noticeably lethargic. Frowning, the older man reached out and placed a hand on Shion’s forehead. 

It was warm to the touch.

“Dammit Shion, you’re sick. Again.” Nezumi stood, pushing Shion’s feet off of him in anger. Shion stuttered and rolled onto his side, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow.

“Don’t say anything.” He added, stomping out of the room and to the first aid kit in the hall. He re-entered in time to see Shion run a hand through his hair before gently resting it on his own forehead. He grimaced.

“I felt okay this morning and only a little tired at work.” Shion spoke quietly, looking away. He seemed appropriately cowed, but Nezumi knew better than to think his words would change Shion’s behavior. Shion was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be.

Nezumi tossed the small kit at Shion. “Take something.”

Shion opened the case and pulled out a fever reducer. He unscrewed the cap and shook out two before glancing at the pills guiltily. “I need some water.”

Clenching his fists, Nezumi stomped out of the room and returned from the kitchen with water and the bag he’d left in the kitchen. 

“We’ve talked about this Shion. You can’t push yourself in the winter, and you sure as shit shouldn’t leave the window open.”

Shion swallowed the pills, eyes still averted. “I know that. I haven’t been pushing myself. Honest.” 

Nezumi crossed his legs and sat on the floor, ignoring Shion and opening the bag he’d grabbed. Pulling out two wrapped sandwiches and soup, he pushed one towards Shion and ate the other mechanically. Whether Shion was pushing himself or not, the man had been sick four times in the last three months. 

It was enough to drive Nezumi crazy. Worrying about someone constantly was painfully new, and while at times it was nice, at other times the anxiety was enough to make his hands sweat and his heart race. Nezumi knew he was almost as bad as a nursemaid as he was a boyfriend. 

He watched as Shion shifted to the floor and picked up the sandwich that had been pushed in his direction. Shion swallowed at the sight, as if the idea of eating made him feel sick, before resolutely removing the wrapping and taking a bite.

Good. Nezumi wasn’t above force feeding if necessary.

It was a side effect from the infection, Shion had told him shortly after Nezumi had returned and Shion had gotten an awful case of the flu. He’d smiled when he’d said it, as if it were no big deal.

Just thinking about it made Nezumi sick to his stomach. His quick actions had saved Shion’s life, but nothing could be done about the long term damage to his immune system. Shion, for all the strength he possessed, could be blown over by a case of strep throat.

“I’m not going in tomorrow, hopefully that will help.” Shion took careful bites and coughed quietly into his sleeve.

It was impossible to not worry every time Shion had a sniffle. 

Nezumi frowned and pushed the soup in Shion’s direction as well. “The soup’s for you too.”

As soon as Nezumi finished his own meal he meandered back into the kitchen, cleaning up the odds and ends Shion had neglected. It looked like from the state of the apartment, Shion had literally slept the afternoon away.

“You had better eat at least half of that soup. Don’t be wasteful.” He called as he changed for bed. 

In the other room he could hear Shion grumble; the man was always a bit whiny when he felt ill. 

Their bedroom was cramped, with piles of books littering the floor and a small dresser jammed up under the window. Nezumi grabbed at the sleep pants Shion favored and threw them across the bed. 

“Shion – ” Nezumi paused in the open doorway of the study; Shion was slumped on the floor with an arm and his head resting on the futon. His eyes were shut and his breathing even and deep. Next to him the soup was barely touched. 

Nezumi hooked a hand on his hip, watching momentarily as Shion shifted and sighed. 

“Can’t you even stay awake long enough to finish your food?” He hissed out quietly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before packing the leftovers away. 

When he finished, Nezumi moved back into the study, leaning down and picking up the smaller man easily. While he was tempted to throw Shion on the bed, like he usually did whenever Shion fell asleep somewhere, he didn’t. 

With luck, the two of them could nip this illness before it became anything worrisome.

He changed Shion efficiently, pulling off the heavy sweater, hat, and slacks and replacing them with an old t-shirt of Nezumi’s and the pair of sleep pants he’d left on the bed earlier. Shion shivered at the cool air on his skin, face scrunching up like that of the mice he’d named. 

Nezumi took a moment to let his gaze hover over the line of red that slithered across Shion’s frame. It seemed odd whenever Nezumi thought of how he’d looked before the illness. He was exotic and when Nezumi allowed himself to think on it, somehow frailer with his pale hair and red eyes. 

It was harder now, to look at the changes on the outside and be reminded of the changes on the inside.

“Nezumi?” Shion’s eyes were partially open, his voice low with exhaustion.

“Go to bed. We’ll talk later.” 

And they would. Nezumi would nail the windows shut and sit on Shion if he had to. The younger man had never understood self preservation. 

Shion turned his head into Nezumi’s shoulder as soon as he climbed beneath the covers. He mumbled into the dark boy’s neck, hot breath coasting along Nezumi’s neck momentarily before Shion drifted back to sleep.

He was warm; hot enough that his touch nearly burned. His arm snaked its way across Nezumi’s torso even as a leg snuck up and onto him as well. He trembled, still feeling the effects of the fever, and Nezumi let his hand soothingly rub at Shion’s back. 

Nezumi flicked the bedside light off and tucked his free hand under his head as Shion curled in even closer, as if he were trying to climb under the other man’s skin. Nezumi was certain he would be sweating in minutes, but didn’t move.

In the still room, Nezumi swallowed back the anger and fear that he could feel brewing. If he’d been younger he would have wandered off in a bad part of town and started a fight. Now, he carefully moved his lips across Shion's forehead in a ghost of a kiss and closed his eyes.


End file.
